


Baking  éclairs

by AbAbsurdo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Canon Relationships, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbAbsurdo/pseuds/AbAbsurdo
Summary: Thomas is trying to run his bakery and get in terms with the trauma of his past. His problems become bigger when a new restaurant opens next to him.Richard’s only reason for moving back home is his online friendship with a man whose real name doesn’t know. Too bad the baker next door is so gloomy. And hot.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 47
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

**meringue: a whipped mixture of sugar and egg whites**

TastyBaker: What's the reason for meringue mushrooms?

RoyalEclair: Many reasons, actually.

TastyBaker: Any of those edible by chance?

RoyalEclair: Are you going to pretend you never had a delicious Pavlova? You are a baker!

TastyBaker: Point taken. However...

...

RoyalEclair: OMG! Stop it!

TastyBaker: What can I say? I don't like meringue mushrooms all over a chocolate combination. So, sue me!

RoyalEclair: You've never been to France, have you?

TastyBaker: ... of course I've been in France.

Thomas got up leaving his laptop on. He often left in the middle of conversation with his online friend. He and Royal Éclair had been exchanging tips for over a year and Thomas was comfortable at abandoning him if necessary. And that moment, it was necessary.

With shaking hands, he filled a cup with milk, warmed it on the stove, added half a spoonful of sugar and sprinkled a packet of yeast over the top of the milk. He stirred it with a fork and waited for the yeast to activate listening to the notification sound of the messages he received. Royal Éclair was persistent if nothing else.

Thomas was not ready to return to their conversation. He hadn't planned on starting a bunch of cinnamon rolls in ten o'clock in the evening, but mentioning France always put him in a bad mood. And baking was the only way to stop thinking. He rubbed his hand and stared down and the scars before reaching for a couple of gloves. He pulled one on and then took it off. He hated working dough with gloves.

He looked back at the laptop. He should say goodnight and get on with his work.

RoyalEclair: Baker...?

RoyalEclair: Let me tell you about the time I was treated a Pavlova with pears instead of strawberries. And they didn't poach the pears.

RoyalEclair: It was better than the one with aubergines.

RoyalEclair: Irrelevant, but aubergine salad in Greece is called melitzanosalata. Garlic, peppers, oil...

RoyalEclair: Are you there...?

RoyalEclair: Am I talking to myself?

RoyalEclair: Was it the aubergine?

Thomas read the messages quickly, snorting at the aubergine.

TastyBaker: I will have you know I once made Jamie Oliver's baked aubergines with chocolate sauce.

RoyalEclair: Seriously?

TastyBaker: But I was young and foolish.

TastyBaker: And it wasn't edible.

TastyBaker: Listen, I have to go.

...

RoyalEclair: Hot date?

TastyBaker: I am going to bake cinnamon rolls.

RoyalEclair: At this hour? It will take you until midnight.

One in the morning, or more, if Thomas had any saying in the matter. He'd be as meticulous and careful as possible, prepare the dough and knead it without a mixer. It was his three days off the bakery. It was agreed by everyone involved after the first year he had chased every customer away.

TastyBaker: It's my days off. No work in the morning.

RoyalEclair: I have an early morning. Coming back home.

TastyBaker: Home?

RoyalEclair: England. I got a new job offer and I accepted. Packing things in the morning.

TastyBaker: When were you supposed to tell me?

RoyalEclair: Hey I told you, didn't i?

TastyBaker: ....

RoyalEclair: I wanted to surprise you, alright?

TastyBaker: Oh you surprised me alright.

RoyalEclair: At least we'll be in the same time zone.

Thomas wanted to learn more about the other man's plans, but his hand was twitching uncontrollably, and his mind wasn't 100% on the conversation.

TastyBaker: Yes. Yes, you did. Have a safe flight home and take care.

RoyalEclair: I'm leaving on Friday. We'll talk tomorrow, right?

The next day was going to be difficult for Thomas. In the past, he had passed it lying on the bed eating boxes of milk tray until he got sick and threw it all up, shivering by the porcelain toilet bowl.

TastyBaker: We'll see. If I don't catch you tomorrow, have a safe trip home.

RoyalEclair: I'll be here. Send me a picture of your rolls.

TastyBaker: No promises. Good night.

RoyalEclair: Good night, darling.

Thomas’ stomach turned at seeing darling written. He hoped one day, he would return to a semblance of normalcy.

In a bowl he mixed softened butter with sugar and beat it with a fork to become creamy mixture. He added all ingredients slowly, eggs, vanilla, a bit of flour and kept on working it with the fork, eyes on the dough, his mind providing pictures of the past in high definition when the ssame procedure was accompanied by laughter and throwing flour all over the place and themselves.

By the time he added the warm milk with the yeast in the mix, his eyes were wet.

He slowly incorporated the flour in the batter and then he removed the fork to use his heads. He kneaded the dough for fifteen minutes, stretching and folding. He was covering it with a towel to let it rest, when his phone rang. He looked at the time. It was 23.16.

He checked the id caller. “Yes, Andy.”

“Thomas, I need your help.” Thomas closed his eyes and waited. “Daisy wants those Spanish flans of yours. Isn't that how you call them?"

“It’s a custard, Andy, easy enough to make.”

“I can’t Thomas, not at this hour. Please.” Thomas imagined his brown, puppy eyes looking at him, when he heard Daisy begging for his special flan.

He sighed. “They need an hour and a half to be ready and to stay in the fridge for another four hours.”

“I’ll be by your house in the morning to take them,” Andy said and hung up.

Thomas was certain this was a ruse to give him something to do and check on him in the morning. He still took the eggs from the fridge and the vanilla bean from the cupboard.

He had time to make the flans until the dough was ready. He put water to boil to prepare a cup of mint tea for himself and got down to business.

* * *

Richard, on the other side of the Atlantic, pushed his blue sweater in his suitcase, squeezing it between his books and notebooks. He was returning home. He never thought he’d be going back. But here he was, changing his whole life for a new job and the hope he’d meet the man he’d been corresponding through messages for over a year.

He sat on the bed, questioning his haste to make decisions. If he had been offered the job half a year previously, he wouldn’t have accepted. But since then he got closer to TastyBaker, heavens! he didn’t even know his real name, and now he was turning his life upside down for a man who said he made a mean Mocha Dacquoise cake.

He only hoped he would agree to meet Richard.


	2. 1.

**zabaglione: Italian dessert, or sometimes a beverage, made with egg yolks, sugar, and a sweet wine, usually Moscato d'Asti or Marsala wine**

After three cups, half tea half brandy, Thomas lay on the sofa, radio playing in the background, arm covering his eyes. Curtains were drawn and the smell of cinnamon permeated the air. Thomas was unaware of most things around him until the buzzer aroused him from his slumber. He let Andy in and tied his robe tighter around his waist.

"Shite, man. You look awful."

"Thank you, Andy," Thomas replied, closing the door behind them. "Flans are in the fridge. I've also prepared a package of cinnamon rolls for you and Daisy."

Andy, instead of taking his treats and leaving, took a seat on a stool by Thomas' bench, who, in turn, squinted at him and swallowed hard. He stood, waiting for Andy to say what he wanted. He looked almost as distraught as Thomas' felt. "Is there something wrong with Daisy?"

Andy shot his head up to look at Thomas from where he fingers were dusting the remaining thin layer of flour. "She's alright."

"Andy, tell me what's the problem. I'm no mind reader."

"Ivy's in town."

Thomas sat on the chair and rubbed his aching eyes with his cold fingers. He felt the blood pounding inside his temples. "And?"

"And Daisy asked her to stay with us, for as long as she wants. Without asking me."

"Would you have refused?"

"No, but she didn't even ask."

Thomas glanced at his cup and the bottle of brandy next to the fridge. "OK..." Good God, he had forgotten how to deal with these situations, if he had ever learnt. Edward used to say he was a hopeless romantic and a hopeless pessimist. Edward was wrong. "So, what do you plan to do?" He stood and his legs ached, he gripped the table for a while before he was able to go to the sofa and take his cup of tea. He almost spat it out when he sipped. It was cold and bitter.

"I don't know, Thomas."

That was making it two of them. "Are you jealous?"

"Wouldn't you be if your partner's ex was in town and your partner asked them to stay with you?"

"My partner is dead, Andy."

Seeing Andy's face, he wanted to take it back, but hey! perspective here. And Thomas had thought Andy wanted to check upon him and how he was doing in the anniversary of the accident. If he was alright.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. What am I thinking?"

Thomas stepped behind him to throw the cold tea down the sink and replace it with hot and a healthy dose of expensive alcohol. He squeezed Andy's neck and returned to his seat. "That's alright. You have to talk with Daisy about this." He thought of Daisy's reaction. "Or better yet, wait for a while until things calm down."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry."

"No need. Are you coming from the shop? Who's there?"

"Anna and Mr. Bates are running the place, Daisy and Ivy are there too, and as I was leaving, I saw Mrs. Patmore. I think she wanted to ask something of you, but Anna asked her to stay and help."

Headache stronger than before, Thomas nodded. It couldn't be worse than him being there. He would do damage control when he was in a state to do damage control. Now he could only do damage.

Not long afterwards, Andy got up to leave. When Thomas got up to lead him to the door, he wrapped his arms around him. Thomas shuddered against him. "You should turn on the heater. You're frozen,” Andy said and rubbed his hands down Thomas' back.

Friendship, Thomas said to himself. "Will do. Don't let the others crash the place down."

"No way, Boss."

Thomas took the rest of the cinnamon rolls to the man leaving next door with his small daughter. He got thanked profoundly, got another warm hug from the six-year-old child and returned to his empty and cold apartment. He turned the heat on and lay on the sofa, a quilt draped over his body.

It was nine forty-six in the morning.

* * *

It was seven o'clock in the evening when he got up, went to the bathroom, looked himself in the mirror and had a shower.

He got back to his living room and sat down. His stomach protested in emptiness, but he didn't want to eat.

He turned his laptop on and checked his emails and messages. He deleted spam and unimportant advertisements.

Many messages appeared in his messenger.

RoyalEclair: Good morning. Or good afternoon to you. [16.32]

RoyalEclair: I'm all ready now. [17.04]

RoyalEclair: My friends here took me to an Asian restaurant last night as a goodbye. [17.23]

RoyalEclair: I've toured Asia and its cuisine for a year in my early twenties. [17.29]

RoyalEclair: I had cendol last night. Do you know it? It's Malaysian. Coconut milk, jelly noodles with green food colouring, shaved ice, palm sugar and red beans. I can imagine you rolling your eyes and raise your lip in disgust. [17.45]

RoyalEclair: Are you alright? [17.59]

RoyalEclair: I can't think of you using food colouring. [18.03]

RoyalEclair: Do you? [18.04]

RoyalEclair: Can I have a pic of your rolls? [18.12]

RoyalEclair: Nothing compares with deep fried Mars, does it? [18.24]

Thomas smiled.

TastyBaker: Unfortunately, you can’t have a pic of my rolls.

RoyalEclair: there you are!

TastyBaker: I gave them all away?  
RoyalEclair: You kept none for yourself?

TastyBaker: No.

RoyalBaker: You have to prepare some for me one day for retribution. I want them blue.

TastyBaker: Made with the well-known blue cinnamon, right?

RoyalEclair: Blueberries, smartass.

TastyBaker: Arse. Proper English please.

RoyalEclair: Ass as in donkey. Not ass as in arse.

TastyBaker: And how do you know?

TastyBaker: You are googling it, aren’t you?

RoyalEclair: Damn right I am.

TastyBaker: And?

RoyalEclair: And you are right, I’m wrong. And you’re a smart-arse.

TastyBaker: Thank you.

RoyalEclair: I still can’t believe you were right about it.

TastyBaker: Lucky guess. I didn’t know either.

RoyalEclair: How are you? Really.

TastyBaker: Working on it. I’ll be better in a couple of days.

RoyalEclair: Do you want to talk about it?

TastyBaker: No not really.

RoyalEclair: OK. You can talk to me if you want.

TastyBaker: Not much to say.

Thomas leaned against the sofa and closed his eyes, tears leaking from his eyes.

_So much to say. So much he had lost. Where to begin? Where to end?_

* * *

Richard waited for the other man to reply. Should he change the subject? Play it dumb? He could do it. They could talk about movies. The times he cried watching Dumbo.

His fingers hovered on the keyboard.

TastyBaker: ….

And he waited to see his friend’s message. Richard wasn’t used to wait. It was uncomfortable to sit here and wonder what was going on inside Baker’s head. He wished he could the other’s face and expressions, to know how to tread carefully.

TastyBaker: I’ve been in a car accident. My partner was driving. A truck came down the road and he lost the control of the car. I couldn’t save him. By the time an ambulance came, he had died.

TastyBaker:...

Damn it! What can he say now? He couldn’t comfort him from miles away.

TastyBaker: I had drunk that night, and he had to drive us back to the hotel.

…

TastyBaker: It was my fault.

RoyalEclair: It wasn’t your fault

TastyBaker: how do you know? you don’t even know me!

His friend not capitalizing the letters was a problem. For as long as he knew him, Baker was making fun of Richard’s way of writing until Richard had started typing as if he was talking to his boss instead of to a stranger he had met in bakers’ chat room.

RoyalEclair: I know you enough to know you’d never willingly put any person you love to harm. Or any person, at all for that matter.

TastyBaker: If I wasn’t drunk, I could save him.

RoyalEclair: How? You’re not a doctor.

TastyBaker: no, I’m not, but I was a medicine student. I left university on the fourth year. I could save him.

TastyBaker: sorry. Have to go.

RoyalEclair: Wait! Are you alright?

TastyBaker: fine

RoyalEclair: Wait, please. Sorry I asked. Listen to me. Stay here and let me talk. Don’t think. Please? Let me help.

TastyBaker: …

TastyBaker: how?

RoyalEclair: Can’t make you feel better so let me tell you a story from my time in Italy.

And then he sat there and wrote to Baker about his expertise on Panna Cotta or every kind and taste. He went on with his unfortunate liaison with an Italian who was proven to be married and Richard paid the waiter to throw his hot zabaglione with strawberries on his trousers. Either way, it was his last day at that restaurant.

TastyBaker: You had an affair with a married man?

RoyalEclair: Well, I didn’t bloody know he was married, did I?

Richard stared at his screen as a reply was late to come.

TastyBaker: Thank you. For everything.

This was good. Wasn't it? He helped his friend. As much as could, and he didn't put his foot in his mouth.

RoyalEclair: I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here. I’m anxious about the flight.

TastyBaker: Why?

RoyalEclair: I’m afraid of height. I hate travelling by plane.

TastyBaker: But you’ve travelled all over the world.

RoyalEclair: And I’m still afraid of it. 

TastyBaker: You’ll be home before you realise it.

RoyalEclair: The problem is until you get on the plane and then until you reach land.

TastyBaker: Everything will go well.

Richard went back to their messages. He narrowed his eyes thinking his words could be taken _the wrong way_.

RoyalEclair: I’m not in the habit, you know.

TastyBaker: What habit?

RoyalEclair: Affairs with married men.

TastyBaker: I know that. Or it would have been a terrible waste for the zabaglione.

TastyBaker: See, this is what we’ll do. I’ll email you ebooks with the best recipes to have something to do. And you’ll take the best of them and create your own out of them. As soon as you step foot on your room, you’ll send them back to me.

RoyalEclair: Bossy, aren’t you?

TastyBaker: Always. Just ask my staff. An ogre of a boss.

RoyalEclair: Hmmm […]

TastyBaker: Don’t. Start.

RoyalEclair: Well, you can’t say you’re bossy

TastyBaker: Have a safe flight. Message me when you can.

RoyalEclair: Sorry.

TastyBaker: No problem. Thank you for staying with me tonight.

RoyalEclair: Goodnight. Take care.

TastyBaker: You too.

After that, Thomas had some toasted bread with grilled cheese and Richard looked through Baker’s recipes. He lay on his bed, smiling.

Thomas fell asleep looking at the photograph on his bedside table.


	3. 2.

**crumpet: a small griddle cake made from an unsweetened batter of water or milk, flour and yeast**

Richard put his shopping bags on the table and took off his sunglasses. Home, sweet home! The sunglasses were unnecessary, but he had gotten used to wearing them. It had started as a thing of privacy, hiding his eyes from the strangers in his travels, and now it was a habit. Even when the the weather was rainy and windy like today leaving his glasses stained with droplets. He put his groceries in the fridge and cupboards, before checking his messages.

No message from the Baker. He had talked to him the previous evening after inspecting his new apartment and finding it to his liking. Jetlagged or not, he had to prepare breakfast and be off to his appointment with the restaurant owner. He was promised full control of the kitchen, but that was left to be seen.

He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake with returning back home.

He looked around and decided to leave tidying his things up later. The kitchen was calling out for him, alluring as a siren, and his stomach replied with a rumble.

He heated a frying pan and fried four slices of bacon in a bit of olive oil, letting it crisp on both sides. Bacon had its own fat he had every plan to use it for his breakfast. He cracked two eggs into a bowl and gave them a little whisk, adding a pinch of salt and black pepper. He wondered if the Baker had breakfast already. If he had returned to his shop preparing his bakery goods for the day. He most importantly wondered where exactly in England he lived and how much time it would take him to visit him.

He cut three slices of bread mechanically. He chopped a chili pepper and added it to the eggs. He then took the bread and pushed it into the egg and chili mixture. In lack of crumpets, bread would have to suffice. He turned the slices a few times to soak up. He pulled the fried bacon to the side carefully and titled the pan so the fat was gathered in the middle. He removed the bread from the bowl and fried it in the bacon's fat until it turned golden, he turned it the other side for a few minutes and then added the remaining eggs on top of the bacon, frying it as well.

He pulled his cellphone and took a picture of his breakfast.

He ate his breakfast from the pan, smiling when he thought about the Baker's reaction over his bad manners. But he was in a hurry and he had no time to wash the dishes.

Yes, he would do this again, when he had homemade crumpets.

Until then, this would do.

RoyalEclair: I'm off to work. Hope to talk to you soon. Have a nice day. [09.43]

* * *

"Gosh, Thomas, what is this? It smells like heaven."

"It's the cinnamon." Thomas wiped his hands with a towel. "What can I do for you?"

Anna stole a glance at her husband. "Nothing really, we just came over to see how our boss is doing."

John limped to Thomas' working bench. "What is this?"

"While I am at home away from work, and as December starts next week, I thought to do some changes for the holidays. To begin with, a week with Peruvian desserts. What you are looking at," he gestured towards the short crystal glasses, "is called Suspiro limeño or suspiro de Limeña." He took a salty peanut from a small bowl and ate it slowly. "I think I have to call Daisy over to have a taste before putting it up for sale.” He thought it a bit better and added. “Or maybe you can take a few of these to her. I don’t think I’d like to… yes, you will, won’t you?”

Anna nodded knowing well Daisy was the last person to help Thomas in the days of the sad anniversary.

“Thank you. A literal translation of the dessert's name is " _Sigh of the lady from Lima"._ It is said that a Peruvian lady who lived in Lima made this dessert for her husband. Her husband, being a poet," he continued mockingly, "gave it the name of Suspiro de Limeña because it is soft and sweet, and I quote, like the sigh of a woman. Don't look at me like that. I wouldn't know. Taste it to tell me if it is true."

John, never to deny a dessert made by Thomas, took a large spoonful and shoved it in his mouth, Anna standing by his side, waiting her turn. Her husband's sigh might not have been a lady's one, but similar to the description, Thomas could attest to it. Anna's tasting went the same route.

"Ah there it is, the lady's sigh! Creamy, light but rich!"

"Is it all caramel?"

"It's not really caramel, no butter in it, or plain sugar. Or cream. Just evaporated and sweetened milk and egg yolks. So basically, a richer dulce de leche with egg yolks. And meringue on the top. And cinnamon. Cinnamon makes everything great."

"You are joking? It shouldn't smell like this. How's that possible?"

"Vanilla? It's really easy. If it sells well, I'll have Andy making it in about an hour."

Anna raised her eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

"It's easy. He can do it," Thomas shrugged, certain in his statement. “Even John can make it.”

He turned to look at John when the other man's heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "How are you?"

It was strange to see John Bates of all people showing interest in his well-being even after all the years of peaceful coexistence. Old habits and memories were hard to break. Especially, when Thomas considered how Bates had gotten his job in the restaurant, he had been interning all those years ago. He went for honesty. "Could have been better. It has certainly been worse in the past. By the time I get back, I'll be okay."

It wasn't a lie. He just didn't admit after the first night's peaceful sleep, in the second nightmares kept him away. Thus, he had spent the night working on his recipes.

He looked around his meticulously clean kitchen. "The rest of the desserts are in the fridge." He suddenly remembered he had manners. "Anna, there's tea ready and I have lemon sponge cake. Help yourselves and I'll be right back."

He closed the door behind him and breathed deeply. He threaded his fingers through his hair, his fringe falling over his forehead. His attention was caught

RoyalEclair: Good morning, Baker [08:12]

RoyalEclair: Strange being in the same continent. Same time zone even. [08:17]

RoyalEclair: Sorry for falling asleep on you last night after being the one to call you [08:22]

RoyalEclair: Hope you’re sleeping. Going to buy necessities. TTYL [08:30]

RoyalEclair: I’m back. Making breakfast. [09:12]

RoyalEclair: I'm off to work. Hope to talk to you soon. Have a nice day. [09.43]

RoyalEclair: Here’s my breakfast.

[attached.jpeg]

Thomas was torn between laughing and shuddering in disgust. He did both at the same time.

TastyBaker: This is utterly disgusting. How did you even eat it? You are such a child [14:12]

TastyBaker: Thank you for your messages. You know I welcome them. Good luck for your appointment. Charm them all! [14:13]

Thomas found Anna and John drinking herbal fusion in his kitchen. “This is nice,” said John and swallowed his mouthful.

“What’s in the tea, Thomas?”

“Mint, rosemary, cardamom and lemongrass. You can add basil, but I don’t like it.”

“So, it’s not really tea. It’s milk with herbals.”

“Kind of. It has tea leaves powder.”

“What?”

Thomas sighed theatrically. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“There you have it.”

* * *

When Richard left the restaurant, it was already dark. He checked his watch only to realise it was after seven o’clock. He was enthused to start working come Monday. He was given free rein to the dessert category of the menu. He crossed the road briskly to see if the Bakery that had caught his eye earlier was still open as sweet scents were alive in the chilly air.

Thankfully, it was still open, and a little bell signified his entrance in it. He was greeted by a tall man, and a pregnant young woman was behind the counter.

“Who is fond of Sherlock Holmes?” Richard asked.

The young man looked at him confused, but the woman laughed out. “He means our name, Andy. That would be our Boss.”

“What’s with our name?”

“ _Baker Street_. Sherlock Holmes’ address? 221B?” The woman looked exasperated at the man’s obvious confusion. She turned towards Richard again. “Or maybe it was a coincidence. Andy’s new here. The question has arisen many times, but the Boss never replies. Who knows? He never says. What would you like?”

_Something to eat._

He perused the display cases. “That courgette and cheddar soda bread. And a Bakewell tart.”

The girl gave him a paper bag and the boy added a few mince piers. “These are Ms. Patmore’s specialty. A treat from the shop for a new customer.”

“Thank you. You’ll definitely see more of me.”

“You’re always welcome here, Mr…?”

“Ellis. But call me Richard.”

“Welcome to our neighbourhood, Richard. I’m Daisy and this is my fiancé, Andy.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he took a large bite of one of the mince pies. “These are really good. Compliments to the baker.”

“Ms. Patmore is an expert,” Daisy said.

Richard bid them goodnight and let them close their shop. He ambled along to his flat thinking of renting a larger detached house soon. He entered the lift feeling drained after the enthusiasm of the day.

“Hold the lift please,” someone called out and Richard pushed and held the door open just as a flushed man with a little child in his hand stepped inside. “Thank you, he said out of breath. “I’m Tom Branson, and this young lady is my daughter, Sybbie.

“I’m Richard Ellis, just moved in,” he smiled at the girl who held her father’s pant leg tightly. “Hello, Sybbie.”

“Hello, Mr. Ellis.” She pulled at her father's leg. “Papa, do you think Mr. Barrow will make more cinnamon rolls for me?”

“If you ask nicely.”

Richard’s interest was piqued at cinnamon rolls, but he was at his floor and had to go out with a quick goodnight.

The last thing he heard was a goodnight in a childish voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many coincidences you say?  
> Damn right! I reply.


	4. 3.

**caffè mocha: based on espresso and hot milk but with added chocolate flavouring and sweetener, typically in the form of cocoa powder or chocolate and sugar**

Sunday morning was cold. No other word for it. Richard pushed the covers off his body and put on a pink hoodie two sizes too big his niece had sent to him as a Christmas gift the previous year. It was visually horrible, but also cozy and warm, his to go when the weather turned chilly in the morning. He padded to the kitchen wearing only his socks, promising to himself he would find his slippers that day. A quick glance outside from the window confirmed drizzling and wet streets. 

He stared down at his moka pot he had been carrying with him around the world since he was a student. It was always the first thing out of his luggage, even if his clothes were still missing. He'd soon buy an espresso machine, but the pot was his trusted ally until then.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, grinding the coffee beans finely. He poured cold water into the bottom of the pot, added two tablespoons of the coffee grounds into the built-in filter, and mechanically shook it to settle the grounds evenly, screwed on the top of the moka pot tightly and placed the pot on medium heat. And then he waited to have his espresso ready so he could add hot milk and cocoa powder to it. He might have shared a white lie when he had claimed to drink his coffee black to his Baker.

Before going to the bathroom for his morning routine, he found his laptop, still on from the previous night.

RoyalEclair: Good morning. What are you doing?

Freshly washed, he sat on the table with his mocha _coffee_ , toast, butter and orange jam. And his laptop. He turned on the radio and sat to enjoy his rather simple breakfast. 

To remember to buy fruit as well.

TastyBaker: Pilates.

He spat the coffee he was on the process of gulping down and searched around to find a towel to clean his mess. And the laptop screen.

RoyalEclair: What? Seriously?

He tried to imagine how the other man would look and the jam ran down his fingers, sticking them together.

TastyBaker: No.

TastyBaker: I'm actually baking the first bunch of Christmas cookies. Shortbread. All kinds of them. I'm going back to work tomorrow, and I wanted to do something different today.

RoyalEclair: Yes, ok, but what about pilates?

TastyBaker: What about it?

RoyalEclair: "sigh"

TastyBaker: I don't do pilates, you daft bugger.

RoyalEclair: But, why not? I'd like to watch...

TastyBaker: My method of exercising is boxing with the bread dough whenever the perfect time presents itself.

RoyalEclair: I'm disappointed

Richard licked the jam from his fingers and wiped them clean with a towel. He looked down at his keyboard and wondered how to clean it.

TastyBaker: You do you, pervert.

RoyalEclair: HEY! I'm not!

TastyBaker: You are.

TastyBaker: But that’s alright. I’m used to you by now. Your mind always goes to the gutter first.

RoyalEclair: As if you didn’t do it on purpose.

TastyBaker: Of course, I did it on purpose. Riling you up is my favourite past time. 

TastyBaker: Sorry, have to leave you. Need to check my shortbread. 

RoyalEclair: I’ll go shopping, love. There’s almost nothing edible in here.

TastyBaker: “love”?

RoyalEclair: Sorry, Mr. Baker. I’ll stay in my lane next time. 

RoyalEclair: It’s a term of endearment, you nitwit.

TastyBaker: From “love” to “nitwit” in one line. I’m hurt, so hurt!

TastyBaker: PS. Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham was my first crush. I was devastated when Robin killed him. With his own dagger nonetheless. 

TastyBaker: Devastated, I tell you.

RoyalEclair: …

RoyalEclair: I’m not sure what to do with this piece of information. Do you mean, you prefer to be called nitwit instead of love?

TastyBaker: Shut up. Go for your groceries. Let me work.

RoyalEclair: Love you too, sunshine. 

_Daft bugger_ , Thomas whispered to his laptop with a smile. 

RoyalEclair: That said, how long are you staying inside the house? 

TastyBaker: As opposed to what?

RoyalEclair: As opposed to outside the house.

TastyBaker: oh… well....

TastyBaker: well, you were in another continent.

RoyalEclair: You should go out for a walk. See some people, breathe fresh air. It’s not healthy to be inside for so long. 

TastyBaker: Yes, Mom.

RoyalEclair: Just don’t call me _Daddy_.

TastyBaker: Good Lord above. Shut up.

RoyalEclair: <smiley face>

  
  


Thomas took the shortbread dough -spiced up with leaves of a bag of Earl Grey tea- from the fridge, removed the cellophane cover and lightly floured his bench kneading the dough slightly so he could roll it out between two sheets of baking parchment paper and used a round cookie cutter for the shortbread. He had them in the oven in no time and in the meantime he had another cup of tea, ginger flavoured this time.

He sat down to take notes of the differences between the traditional recipe and his own. Twenty five minutes later he checked the cookies, turned off the oven and let them for a couple more minutes to turn slightly golden. Choosing between sprinkling confectioner’s sugar or decorating them with chocolate ganache proved to be the difficult part. Thomas was of the opinion when in doubt pick chocolate. He also knew not everyone agreed with him. 

Comparing notes with Ms. Patmore's recipe book, dating back to the 1920s was one of his favourite moments of every evening and he planned to include his online friend in the ritual. For Grantham gingerbreads he needed ginger and he was certain he had used the last of it in a carrot and ginger soup. He usually preferred fresh ginger instead of powder. He’d buy both as he was going to need them though. 

  
  


Five hours later, his bench was filled with different types of cookies and his spine ached something rotten. He grabbed his coat, gloves and beanie and was out the door in a matter of seconds. He walked fast down across the road when someone called him out. 

  
  


“Thomas!”

He turned around to find himself face to face with a flushed Edith Crawley. 

“Edith. Hello.”

“Hello. I was going to the Bakery to talk to you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She pulled one glove off her hand, glowing with happiness and raised it up to show him an engagement ring. “We haven’t talked in weeks, Thomas. I’m engaged. Bertie asked me to marry him.” 

“Congratulations,” he said with a smile, and he found himself actually meaning it. For the first time since the accident, someone else's happiness didn't open a wound in his heart.

She threw herself in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck. “I want to talk to you about the wedding cake and other desserts for the wedding day and my party the day before.”

“Alright. Would you like to come over on Tuesday? Around seven thirty in the afternoon so we can talk about it? And bring your Bertie with you as well.” Knowing Edith, he was almost afraid of what she was going to ask of him. 

“I was going to ask Mary as well…”

“As long as she won’t break anything like last time…” 

He dodged a playful hit on his shoulder. “You know it wasn’t on purpose.”

His eyes widened in shock. “I know, but I’m surprised you do as well.”

She looked away for a few moments. “We talked, we figured things out. We are alright, as you say.” Her eyes took a faraway look Thomas hated to see in her pretty face.”You know, Sybil’s husband is also here. I don’t believe you have met him… he lives somewhere around here, in your neighbourhood, too. I shouldn’t say it, but I think he’s been avoiding Papa and Granny.” 

“Can’t say I blame him.” Thomas hadn’t met Sybil’s husband. After spending three months with him and Edward in Amsterdam, she had returned to London and by the time Thomas returned alone, she had already passed away after giving birth to her daughter. 

Edith raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Really missed you. I’ll see you on Tuesday!”

* * *

  
  


It was already dark when Richard finished his shopping. He had decided to put his things in their place before going out, so it was already late afternoon when he entered the supermarket with a long list of things to buy.

Richard carried three bags of groceries, his sight prevented by them. Walking slowly and carefully, he was suddenly pushed forward by a group of teenagers who were playing with their football behind him only to crash against a man who was walking in front of him. The kids scattered away and his oranges fell down on the street.

Richard cursed his bad luck. He was pulled up by the man he had fallen onto. He gripped the gloved hand that had reached out to help him get up. "Sorry for crashing onto you," he said and raised his gaze to see blue eyes looking back at him intently. 

Heavens, he was handsome. Pale skin contrasting beautifully with his black beanie and long coat, big blue eyes, straight nose, cherry red lips and those damn cheekbones, he was a vision to look upon. Richard could spend the rest of his lifetime staring at the man. 

"That's alright.” And the voice, smooth and low, did things to Richard’s insides. “Did you break anything, hurt anything" the other man asked, his gaze on Richard's pink hoodie picking out underneath his grey coat covering his head. The beautiful stranger didn’t even try to conceal his amused smirk.

"No, no, I'm all in one piece."

"OK, let's gather your stuff." The man helped him put his fallen groceries inside the bags and he went as far as to secure them in Richard's arms. "Hold them carefully in case someone pushes you on some other innocent bystander. And... I think you should consider getting dressed as an adult next time you get out. That..." he nodded towards the pink hood covering his hair, "might have given the wrong impression to the kids behind you."

And he walked towards the direction Richard had come from. The opposite direction of Richard, who stood there watching him getting away from him, getting smaller and smaller in the distance, mist covering his figure despite the Christmas lights already decorating all roads. 

Richard sighed and started again towards home. 

* * *

  
  
  


RoyalEclair: I'm in love

TastyBaker: That was quick. Didn't you go to buy fruit? Are we talking about an orange? Did you fall in love with a pineapple?

RoyalEclair: You don't understand. I just met the most beautiful man in existence.

Thomas read the message, a knot in his stomach tightened his abdomen. He stretched his body gently in an effort to make it go away.

TastyBaker: It happens. Good for you, I guess.

RoyalEclair: He made fun of my... shoes.

What was wrong with his shoes? He couldn’t imagine his online friend having bad taste, even in shoes.

RoyalEclair: I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

So they didn’t exchange numbers. The knot eased a bit. 

RoyalEclair: I think I should camp on the street where I saw him. He’s bound to pass it again, right?

RoyalEclair: I’d buy a guitar and become a street musician. 

RoyalEclair: Write a song for him and keep singing it until I find him again…

TastyBaker: Or you can make something to eat and then sleep because you start working tomorrow.

RoyalBaker: Spoilsport. Where is your romantic side, man?

TastyBaker: Inside the pineapple.

Richard couldn’t tell if his Baker was jealous, but he sure hoped so. 

Regardless of how beautiful the stranger was, he’d always pick his friend over a man he didn’t know anything about. But damn! If he wasn’t the most stunning man he had seen in… ever. On the other hand, he would never admit he went for shopping wearing a pink hoodie. Nothing wrong with that, but he had a feeling his Baker would make fun of it too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some peculiar reason, the previous chapter had many spelling errors I thought I had corrected before posting.   
> Most of them are corrected now. I'm certain some of them went unnoticed though.  
> Apologies for them.


	5. 4.

**Spoon sweets:** **sweet preserves, served in a spoon[as a gesture of hospitality.](https://culinarybackstreets.com/cities-category/athens/2018/building-blocks-18/) They can be made from almost any fruit, though sour and bitter fruits are especially prized. There are also spoon sweets produced without fruit.**

RoyalEclair: Going for a visit to my parents on Wednesday.

TastyBaker: That's nice. You are close to them..

RoyalEclair: Yes. One of the hardest things to do was leaving them and one of the best things now that I am back.

RoyalEclair: But a man's gotta do what a man's got to do.

RoyalEclair: as they say

RoyalEclair: The other good thing is you.

RoyalEclair: ….

RoyalEclair: Are you close to yours?

TastyBaker: Hardly

RoyalEclair: Sorry

TastyBaker: It's been eighteen years. I'm used to it.

RoyalEclair: Never asked you. How old are you?

TastyBaker: 35

RoyalEclair: A year younger than me then.

TastyBaker: NO! You're 36? Sometimes I think you are 15.

RoyalEclair: I'll take that as a compliment.

TastyBaker: It... wasn't.

TastyBaker: My Dad is a priest. Catholic priest. He tried, I think. I want to believe he tried.

TastyBaker:...

TastyBaker: to accept me, that is. To accept that I was, that I am gay. That his God made me this way. In the end, he couldn't.

RoyalEclair: You left home early.

TastyBaker: I started my studies early. He helped. So I wasn't… wouldn’t be close to home. To him. Mom didn’t even attempt to stop him. Then I dropped out a year before I got my degree

TastyBaker: and that didn't help either.

RoyalEclair: When I was young, youngER I wanted to have my own chocolaterie. That's what I studied: chocolate.

RoyalEclair: But, here I am, working in a restaurant instead of in my own shop, filled with spices and chocolate.

TastyBaker: So, you wanted to be Juliette Binoche.

RoyalEclair: [blushing face emoji]

RoyalEclair: Exactly.

RoyalEclair: Are you Roma at heart by any chance?

TastyBaker: Nuh.... don't look like Depp either.

RoyalEclair: We should watch the movie together one of these days.

TastyBaker: Why?

RoyalEclair: So we can talk about it as we watch it.

TastyBaker: Why?

RoyalEclair: It's chocolate. It has a Christmas air.

TastyBaker: It takes place during the Lent and Easter.

RoyalEclair: So?

TastyBaker: Christmas and Easter are two different holidays.

RoyalEclair: Then we should watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

TastyBaker: How old we said you are again?

RoyalEclair: Older than you. You should respect your elders.

RoyalEclair: Seriously, I was thinking... we should meet.

Thomas was typing a call out for his friend's fixation on Depp's movies, but he stopped when he saw his latest message.

He blinked.

TastyBaker:

TastyBaker: ....

TastyBaker: Meet?

RoyalEclair: Yes, meet. It's when two (or more) people get together and see each other face to face.

RoyalEclair: Are you there?

TastyBaker: How do you know we are close though?

RoyalEclair: You can tell me where you are and I can tell you where I am and find a place somewhere in the middle

TastyBaker: You have thought about it.

RoyalEclair: I have. But, it's not exactly cosmology.

TastyBaker: Let me think about it.

It wasn't exactly Richard hoped for, but it wasn't as negative as he expected either.

RoyalEclair: Alright.

TastyBaker: Goodnight. Early morning tomorrow. Have to be at the shop at four.

Richard sighed. He wasn't going to get an answer that night.

RoyalEclair: Good night. Sleep tight.

  
  
  


Thomas was thinking over his latest conversation with his friend all morning. He poured the hot cream on the chopped chocolate and waited for a while. Smell of cocoa and vanilla permeated the air. He took a maryse and mixed the cream with the chocolate, stirring gently until it shone and became smooth and he glazed the chocolate cakes with it.

It wasn't that he didn't want to meet him. He just didn't know what or how he felt about it. Maybe if he didn't give an answer, his friend wouldn't mention it again. And if he did, well, he'd answer him the first thing that came to his mind.

“Hey, there you are here,” Phyllis interrupted his thoughts and wrapped him in a tight hug. Thomas stiffened and then let himself absorb her warmth. 

“Aren’t you a little early?”

“I wanted to see you. And see for myself how you are.”

“I’m alright Phyllis. Really,” he added, seeing her uncertain expression. “I wasn’t left alone either. Much. I baked and thought… all is Okay. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

He pulled her in his arms again, less hesitant than before. “You are here now.”

“Thomas? What is this?” She held a medium sized vase he had left on the bench earlier. 

He took it from her, and with the help of a towel he opened it. She didn’t miss the grimace of discomfort from opening the lid with his left hand. He grabbed a spoon, and taking some of the red substance, he gave it to her to taste it. “Sour cherry sweet preserve. We’d call it spoon sweet and I’ll use it instead of marmalade glaze on top of a couple cheesecakes.”

“It’s sweet and sour. Better than cherry.”

“Definitely better than cherry.” He agreed with a half-smile. 

“I’ll leave you to do your work.”

Thomas spent the early morning, morning and afternoon working in new recipes to be on sale during the holiday season. “You know that’s not really what a baker is about. When was the last time you made a cupcake,” Daisy asked, leaning against a bench later in the afternoon, a hand on her belly rubbing gently.

Thomas thought about it. “I’m not sure I have ever made a cupcake for the bakery. That’s why I have you. Besides, my cupcakes wouldn’t hold a candle to Mrs. Patmore’s so why go there in the first place?”

“Modesty doesn’t become you, Boss.”

“Hush, it’s bad enough the rest of the lot call me Boss, not you too.” He took a good look at her. She looked pale and drawn. “Go lie down for a while.”

“I’m not going home to only get back later.”

“I mean in my office.”

The sofa in Thomas’ office was used only by the man himself the days he chose to stay in the shop for a late night and an early baking morning. Or night. Offering it to his employee and old friend was a first, and Daisy nodded. 

“Thank you. I believe I will.”

“And, if you want to go home, go. I’ll find someone to replace you.”

She stood for a while by the door watching him working, as if she wanted to say something to him. Thomas waited patiently, but in the end, she signed and left quietly. 

When she returned a couple hours later, she was less quiet.

"Thomas what smells like this?"

"It's a kind of syrupy shortbread they make in Greece for Christmas."

"It smells heavenly."

"Cinnamon, cloves, orange zest and juice will do that. Add some honey in the syrupe too."

"How do you call them?"

"Melomakarona. Because of the honey in the syrup and the shape of the shortbread.These ones are made with olive oil. We can use butter as well."

"May I have one?"

"Daisy, have as many as you want. They need some time for the syrup "

  
  


TastyBaker: I take your zabaglione and add shortbread as well. [21:32]

Too tired to cook anything for dinner, Thomas poured a cup of warm milk on cereal after having a hot shower and lay back on the sofa with a book, his laptop open on the table next to him. He drifted off immediately. 

  
  
  


RoyalEclair: Photos or it didn’t happen [23:23]

RoyalEclair: Are you there? [23:24]

RoyalEclair: Not awake then. [23.25]

Richard was beat and his shift was just done. Walking home took a real effort, but he blamed the change in the time zone. He’d get used to it, soon. 

He saw no reply when he got home. It was the first day back to work for his Baker too, and after the emotional drain of the last days, the other man deserved his sleep.

TastyBaker: I find your suspicions about my baking quite offending, to be honest. [3:52]

TastyBaker: You want proof about everything [3:53]

TastyBaker: [[data.jpeg](https://www.olivemagazine.gr/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/MIKRI-zabagionmam-430x575.jpg)] [3:53]

TastyBaker: Hope you’re satisfied [3:54]

TastyBaker: Have a good day. [3:54]

TastyBaker: Sorry for missing you last night. Went to bed early. [3:55]

It was the sofa, but Thomas wasn’t going to share this. 

RoyalEclair: I want the recipe [09:32]

* * *

"Thomas, may I talk to you?"

"Joseph, what can I do for you?" He wiped his hands on a towel and led Molesley to his office where he took a seat behind his desk, offering the other armchair to his visitor.

"It's Phyllis' birthday on Friday."

Thomas looked at him over his glasses. "Yes, I know."

"I want to surprise her and I decided to take her to the new restaurant across the street on Saturday."

"That sounds... nice," Thomas said with a grimace. Well, if Phyllis liked Molesley, Thomas couldn't do anything about it. If he was honest, he was a vast improvement from her abusive ex husband. Still, Thomas thought Phyllis could do better.

"And I want you to come with us."

"Me?"

"All of you. John and Anna, Andy and Daisy, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. And you. You are her oldest friend."

"Alright." It was not as if Thomas had any plans for that evening. Or any evening.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Andy came in in a hurry. "Ms. Crawley wants to see you, Thomas."

"Edith?"

"Yes."

"We had an appointment for tomorrow," Thomas checked the time. "At seven thirty, I think. No. It was for tonight. Can’t believe I forgot about it." 

"Yes, she said something about having dinner with her sister soon and came a little earlier."

  
  


Thomas stood nodding to Molesley. “I’ll be there with you for Phyllis.”

  
  


He took his suit jacket and followed Andy to the main area. Edith was talking with Daisy, congratulating each other. Thomas' stomach lurched to his throat in an uncomfortable clench. People around him were going on with their lives. "Thomas, I was telling Daisy about my wedding. You all should meet Bertie. We are having a party at home on New Years Eve and you are all invited. I'll have Mama send you the invitations this week."

With home, she meant the Castle she grew up in. He had been invited before in Sybil’s birthdays, every year he had known her. He hadn’t been there after Edward and Sybil’s deaths. 

  
  


The bell on the door rang and two people came inside for Thomas to find two small arms wrapped around his legs. "Mr. Barrow, Dad said we had to come here if I wanted cinnamon rolls. And I wanted... want." Little Sybbie Branson said against his stomach and Thomas' hand smoothed her short hair down.

"That's right. We have anything you want here."

"Anything?" Big, blue eyes stared up at him and then they looked around to take in every dessert behind the protective glass. "Anything I want Daddy."

"Sybbie?" Edith's voice was heard over the girl's excitement and then she turned her gaze to the girl's father who was standing aside. "Tom?"

"Hello, Edith."

"Thomas, you said you didn't know Tom."

"Wait a moment," Tom interrupted her. "This is Sybil's Thomas?"

Thomas was confused only for a few moments and he found himself embraced by the shorter man as tightly as his daughter had hugged him, he realised Tom was Sybil's husband. While uncomfortable by the affection from a practical stranger he returned the hug timidly. This was after all, Sybil's family.

Edith stood aside and let the men get to know each other, and after deciding they could continue their discussion back home, Tom took Sybil -who had two large paper bags with goodies in her hands- and left Thomas with Edith. 

“He’s a good man, Sybil wouldn’t love someone unworthy, but I don’t think he likes us much.”

Thomas didn’t blame him. The Crawleys were an acquired taste, but being best friends with Sybil meant he got to know them in their best and their worst. “I’m sure the more he gets to know you, he’ll change his mind.”

Doubt coloured her face, but she accepted his words. “Thomas, where can we talk about the preparation of the wedding?”

Thomas showed her the way to his office. “It’s going to be a Spring wedding. The original plan was for a quick wedding by the end of the year, but when Bertie’s cousin died, plans changed. We can no longer have a simple wedding, no matter how much I wish for it.” 

Thomas didn’t know what to say about it. An older version of him might have had a scathing remark to share or a twinge of jealousy making itself obvious in the face of someone else’s mistakes accepted, but that was in the past. He was too tired to mind. Especially, when it was about Edith’s happiness. 

“... and I want you to prepare the desserts for the reception. I want a gluten free wedding cake. The less sugar the better. And I don’t know, but some of my friends are vegans.” She turned her big eyes on him questioning. “Can you help me?”

Thomas inhaled deeply, suddenly missing his cigarettes. He hadn’t smoked since… then. He blinked, shoving the memories away, closing them in a dark, isolated place of his mind. “You let me think about it and come back to you with some ideas. If you want anything specific to work around, send me an email and we can discuss it.”

“Mary and Henry wait for me for dinner and Bertie is going to meet us there. He wanted to come here, but he got an urgent phone call at the last moment. You’ll meet him soon.” 

Edith left soon with a flare akin to a spring downpour leaving Thomas alone to ponder what the hell he was going to do for her wedding.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Richard sauntered to his new favourite bakery to buy something for his parents. The original plan was to bake a cake himself, but his going to work immediately after coming to England had made it impossible. He stood outside the bakery perusing the cakes and just as he decided what he wanted to buy, he saw the man from the other night, dressed in a three piece suit getting tightly hugged by Richard’s new neighbours.

He returned slowly to the restaurant. He could buy something before he left for home the next morning.

  
  


He took his phone and sent a message to his Baker.

RoyalEclair: I think hot man in the beanie has a boyfriend [19.47]

  
  
  


Twenty minutes after preparing his last croquembouche for the evening, he got invited to a table to be congratulated for his dessert. 

“If it isn’t Richard Ellis!” He heard Henry Talbot before seeing him and instantly got an armful of a very excited beanpole. “Excellent dessert, mate. Mary darling, Edith, Bertie this is my old friend, Richard Ellis.”

“Richard,” he gestured towards the brunette, “this is my wife, Mary Crawley, and her sister, Edith. And Bertie Pehlman, Edith’s fiance.” 

Richard shook their hands, accepting their complimentary words with grace. He instantly recognised Edith as the woman he saw in the Bakery earlier, standing next to his current interest, his Baker notwithstanding.

“Have you finished for tonight? Take a seat with us?”

Whole body aching, Richard was certain he had caught a cold, but he nodded and took a seat between Edith and Henry. While trying to reconnect with Henry, he was keeping track of the conversation between the sister. 

Mary leaned over, close to Edith. “You said you saw Tom? And Sybbie?” 

“Yes, got to introduce him to Thomas. You should have seen how tightly he hugged him. I wonder what Sybbie had told him about her adventures with Thomas gallivanting around Europe.” Edith’s smile was sad. “Poor Thomas, you should have seen him, he was as if Tom had attacked him.” 

Richard leaned back on the chair, his attention back to Henry’s story. 

Later, having said goodbye to the company, he checked his messages.

TastyBaker: His loss [21.58]

He smiled. 

RoyalEclair: False alarm. They just met. [23:14]

Gauging his friend’s reaction to his exaggerations was the best moment of the day. Not that he would refuse tall, dark and pale’s attention if he happened to get it. 

But, first to sleep.

TastyBaker: What the hell, mate? Are you stalking them? [04:03]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Writing about desserts i know is easier obviously, so Thomas and Richard's odd fixation on Greek culture is writer's projection more than anything else.  
> 2\. I wanted this story to be finished by now, but unfortunately proper mood was absent for a couple of weeks.  
> Hopefully, the fact the holidays are over, won't dampen the mood. 
> 
> May we have a happy 2021!


End file.
